“It’s delicate like you are. You should buy it. Every girl needs a nice fragrance. It makes you feel pretty and special.” She handed a cellophane-wrapped yellow box with gold lettering to Fallon. “You should buy this.”
She grasped the box in her hand, excitement coursing through her. “I think I will.” She walked over to the cashier and paid for her purchase.
As she waited for Sylvia to finish checking out, she carefully removed the cellophane paper and ran her finger over the raised words. She thought it was the prettiest box she’d ever seen. Slipping her finger under the top, she opened it and picked up the tall elegant-looking bottle. She took off the gold cap and misted the perfume on the sides of her neck, her wrists, and around her hair. A burst of sugary lemon filled her nostrils and a feeling of weightlessness made her giggle.
“You smell real nice, Fallon. That’s a perfect scent for you,” Sylvia said as she pushed the cart with her bags toward the store’s exit. After she’d placed all her purchases into the trunk, she turned to Fallon. “I’m starving. Why don’t we get something to eat?” Fallon nodded, a smile spreading on her face. “I heard Leroy’s Diner has good food and it’s cheap. After all the money I just spent, cheap sounds real good.”
After finding parking a block away, Fallon and Sylvia settled into a booth by the window looking out to the street. The diner had a few open tables, but it was pretty much full. Every stool at the lunch counter was taken, and the waitresses, in sky blue dresses with white piping, hustled about. A woman with her hair wrapped in a tight bun, wire-rimmed glasses, and the brightest coral lipstick Fallon had ever seen came over with a pad in her hands.
“Whatcha want to drink?” Fallon guessed their waitress to be in her late thirties or maybe early forties.
“I’ll have a lemon Coke with lots of chipped ice,” Sylvia said, her attention on the menu.
“Is your lemonade homemade?” Fallon asked.
“Not now. Only in the summer.”
“Oh. I guess I’ll have to come back in a couple weeks,” she joked. The waitress didn’t crack a smile as she tapped her pencil against her pad. “I’ll have iced tea, please.” The woman spun around and dashed over to the counter.
“Everything looks so good. I don’t know if I want breakfast or lunch,” Sylvia said. “What’re you going to have?”
“I think I’ll have a turkey club. I wonder if they have cranberry sauce.”
“I bet they do. I think I’m going to have the chicken fried steak and eggs. It comes with homemade biscuits. I told you I’m starving.” Sylvia laughed and closed her menu.
After they placed their order, Fallon leaned back against the turquoise cushion and stared out the window. She exhaled, then glanced at Sylvia, who was looking in her shiny red compact mirror. Fallon cleared her throat. “I’m having a nice time. Thanks for asking me to come along.” She picked up her iced tea and took a sip.
“You gotta get out more. Staying with your dad and Shanna all the time would drive me crazy. And when you’re not with them, you’re hanging around the warehouse. It’s not good. Don’t you have any friends in town? I mean, you’re from Tula, right?”
Fallon nodded. “I wasn’t popular in school. Actually, I got picked on a lot, and when I had my accident, I hated going to school. Everyone stared at me and I felt like a freak.”
Sylvia shook her head. “I’ll bet there were a lot of people who didn’t pay any attention to your leg. You felt self-conscious about it so you probably thought everyone was staring. Sometimes we’re our own worst enemy.” Her eyes lit up when the waitress placed a large plate smothered in brown gravy in front of her.
Fallon laughed. “You look like a kid on Christmas morning.” She pulled out a couple more napkins from the dispenser on the table and then picked up her thick sandwich.
As they ate, warmth spread through her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had such a wonderful day. It was nice going out with another woman, talking about makeup and rock stars, eating lunch together, and being like everyone else. Even though Sylvia was a few years older than Shanna’s twenty-seven years, Fallon had so much more in common with her than with her stepmom. When her dad had first started dating Shanna, Fallon had been excited about having a woman around her age as a friend. Shanna had been friendly in the beginning, but Fallon now knew it was all an act to hook her father. Once they got married, she turned into a mean bitch, and any hope Fallon had of being friends with her was crushed by her hurtful words. The worst part was that her dad always sided with Shanna. It was like he forgot she’d been his daughter longer than the bitch was his wife.
“How’s your sandwich? It looks super yummy.” Sylvia dunked her biscuit into the egg yolk on her plate.
“The best. The turkey and ham are roasted. They’re definitely homemade. It’s not like the pressed junk you usually get in club sandwiches.” She popped a potato chip in her mouth.
As they talked, the window shook slightly. “What the hell is that?” Sylvia said. Before Fallon could answer, about ten or twelve motorcycles roared past the diner; the sound was deafening. “Oh wow. I’ve never seen so many bikers riding all at once. I mean, damn… all that testosterone kind of gets you wet, you know?” She wiped her forehead with a napkin.
“I guess. Last Saturday there were a bunch of bikers during the fights. Don’t you remember? There was that big fight between them.”
“I remember, but your dad made us go upstairs when shit hit the fan. I didn’t really get to see any of them. I don’t know what it is, but a man in tight jeans with a bunch of tattoos riding a motorcycle just turns me to putty.”
“I think they’re scary. But I’ve begun to like tattoos on men.” Diablo popped into her head.
All of a sudden, a lot of stomping, talking, and laughing filled the diner. Sylvia’s eyes widened. “The bikers just came in from the back. Now we get to have some eye candy with our dessert.”
“Dessert? I couldn’t eat another thing.” Fallon pushed her half-eaten sandwich away from her. “I’m officially stuffed. How many bikers are there? Do they look scary?”
“I’d say there’re about twelve of them, and they look delicious. Turn around and see for yourself. And I’ve got to try a scoop of homemade chocolate chip ice cream.”
Fallon nonchalantly looked behind her at a large table filled with men dressed in denim and leather. All of them had tattoos and wore black vests with a lot of patches on them. Then her eyes landed on Diablo.Oh my God! He’s here.Panic replaced casualness and she faced forward, slinking down in the booth.
“What’s wrong? You’re as white as a ghost.”
